


What's Better Than This?

by cryromantic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23276140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryromantic/pseuds/cryromantic
Summary: They're just guys being dudes. Their friends have other ideas about them.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	1. Ashe and the questionable baking duo

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift for the dimivain server gift exchange. My recipient asked for dimivain just being guys being dudes. :')

Operation “Ashe and his friends all make cakes for the book club bake sale” slowly turns into “Ashe and half his friends” over the course of the week.

Felix drops out first. He tells Ashe something about fencing practice, but when Ashe questions the validity of the excuse Felix tells him the truth. There is a one day only special showing of the otters at the aquarium and Lysithea asked him to take her. Ashe is happy that she feels well enough to go out. He wishes them safe travels.

Ingrid is next. One of her parents’ mares is expected to give birth soon and they asked her to come and help out around the ranch for a while. Ashe only asks that she send a lot of pictures. Perhaps he also suggests naming the new baby horse after Kyphon.

Annette and Mercedes are last and it is unexpected. Ashe asks if everything is alright and gets his answer via a very loud sneeze on the other end of the line. It seems Annette caught a cold and, as with all things, shared it with Mercedes. Ashe laughs at their antics on the phone before he wishes them a speedy recovery.

He is not at all discouraged though! Dedue shows up right on time in the morning. He gets to work helping Ashe set up everything they will need. Sylvain shows up thirty minutes late with Dimitri in tow. Dimitri tries to apologize, but Ashe assures him it’s fine. They all get to work.

“Dimitri look.” Ashe hears Sylvain suddenly say with unadulterated _glee_.

“Sylvain! You can’t put a pe-”

“Oh god, just say dicks-”

“Don’t put them on cupcakes,” says Dimitri, sputtering.

Ashe looks up from his measuring and eyes the cupcakes in question. Sylvain has, indeed, made a stubby frosting penis. It is impressive the way Sylvain made creative use of the different frosting tips, if he is being honest. He even used the food coloring to dye the frosting an uncanny flesh color. 

They _could_ sell these, but not at a family friendly venue.

“Don’t waste frosting, Sylvain,” chides Ashe, going back to measuring flour and carefully putting it in a sifter, “Or you’ll have to make more.”

And Ashe does not want to suffer through Sylvain comparing the _viscosity_ of buttercream to other similarly colored substances again.

“Sorry Ashe,” says Sylvain, with a titter. Ashe doesn’t even get the chance to sift the flour before there is an exclamation of _Open wide!_ followed by a yelp. 

More concerning than that is the sudden projectile buttercream that flies past Ashe's face. There is a long stripe of bright white frosting leading from Dedue’s hand made fondant flowers at one end of the counter that trails back to the chocolate cake Dimitri was put in charge of.

In Dimitri’s hand is a piping bag that just had the life squeezed out of it. Ashe’s gaze finally lands on Dimitri’s face where a pinkish splotch of frosting is splattered across his nose and cheek. Ashe checks on Sylvain’s cupcake and, sure enough, the dick is gone. 

Sylvain throws his arms around Dimitri, face turned into the blonde’s shoulder. He is losing his absolute shit.

“Sylvain,” squeaks Dimitri, and the buttercream balls fall off his face and land on Sylvain’s arm which only makes Sylvain laugh _harder_.

Dedue salvages what he can of the spilled frosting and Ashe cleans up the rest. Dimitri is wiping his face with a paper towel and Sylvain opts to lick the glob off himself. Sylvain is scolded by all three of them and he holds up his hands in surrender, but he is still in a jovial mood. Ashe takes a peek at Dimitri and he could swear there is the barest hint of a smile as he gazes at Sylvain.


	2. Felix and the incredibly annoying carpool

Felix resents that Sylvain is their de facto driver, but neither Ingrid or himself have a license. Dimitri could do it, in theory at least. His car was manufactured this decade and never smells like the vape cloud du jour.

In practice, they all know Dimitri only drives when there is no other option. Dimitri’s shoulder still bothers him sometimes and Felix has seen the way his hands shake before gripping the wheel. No one pushes the subject. Besides, Sylvain is happy to drive them. It gives him an excuse to chatter nonsense where no one can escape.

But being trapped inside Sylvain’s rusty metal deathtrap doesn’t stop Felix from imagining throwing open the door and leaping out onto the highway. Sprawled out face-first on the asphalt would be preferable to listening to Sylvain rank their ability to _strip_.

“I’m just saying when you judge it by flair, athleticism, _and_ skill I would be first,” says Sylvain, placing his hand on his chest. Felix imagines a meteor hitting the car and freeing him from this inanity. Would that be enough flair?

“Isn’t stripping by itself enough… flair?” asks Dimitri, sounding confused. From Felix’s spot behind the driver’s seat, he can see Dimitri’s head tilt to the right as he mulls over Sylvain’s idiocy with genuine thought. Not for the first time this trip, Felix hates himself for forgetting his earbuds.

“ _No_? Dimitri, you gotta use your imagination,” says Sylvain. “Costumes, personalized music. Come on.”

They run yet another stop sign and the car is quiet save for the staticky radio voices analyzing last night’s hockey game. The Fhirdiad Lions are on a record breaking win streak and the subject seems to have been dropped.

“So if you were dressed as a firefighter and had a pole, would that be enough flair?” asks Dimitri, breaking the silence.

“Okay! There you go!” exclaims Sylvain. He blindly reaches over to clap Dimitri on the shoulder and the car swerves too near the other lane for Felix’s liking.

“Sylvain,” says Felix, kicking at the driver’s seat.

“Sorry, alright. Don’t break my seat _again_ please.” Sylvain says sorry, but all three of them know he’s not. Felix can see his eyes in the rearview mirror. The crinkles at the corners a dead giveaway for the smile on his face. “But see? This ingenuity is why Dimiboy is solid in sixth place.”

“Sixth?” It is anyone’s guess why Dimitri sounds like he was just given a meaningful title. “That isn’t so bad.”

“Yeah! After Mercedes and before Ingrid and Felix,” says Sylvain, pleased with his own bullshit as usual. Felix does the math and scoffs.

“Why am I last?”

“Oh, Felix, I think you would be an alright stripper,” says Dimitri. He turns in his seat and Felix tells him- and his dumb smile- to go to hell. He would be better than _alright_.

“Dude, I’m sure you would be fine. You just gotta, y’know, act like you want to be there,” says Sylvain.

“Whatever.”

They pass their turn and the subject is dropped for a blissful ten minutes as Sylvain finds them an alternate route. Then Dimitri picks it up again. He dusts off the conversation like it’s something worth having and Felix considers not speaking to them for the rest of their lives.

“What would you dress as Sylvain?”

“A jockey.”

Dimitri laughs so hard he starts to snort. He covers his mouth and looks out his window, but his shoulders are still shaking. Felix sighs when he sees Sylvain look at Dimitri with an expression so soft it makes Felix feel like barfing. _Disgusting_.

“Watch the fucking road.”

“ _Sorry_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering, Sylvain's stripper tier list is as follows:
> 
> Sylvain  
> Ashe  
> Annette (for sheer enthusiasm)  
> Dedue  
> Mercedes  
> Dimitri  
> Ingrid  
> Felix


	3. Ingrid and the ginger experiencing gay sweats

They may get along like oil and water on most days, but the bottom line is that Ingrid is grateful to have Sylvain as a friend. He is infuriating, sure, but he is also kind. Besides, they have been known to have pleasant afternoons together. Today is one such occasion. Ingrid gets too overwhelmed shopping on her own and she wanted to find Dorothea something special for their anniversary. Enter Sylvain.

“Thank you for today Sylvain,” she says, elbowing her companion’s side. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know, Inky,” says Sylvain, throwing his arm over her shoulder. “And don’t worry. I’ll only call in my favor when you least expect it.”

“Aaand you’ve ruined it,” replies Ingrid, but there is no edge to it. She pats Sylvain’s back and giggles. “Really though, it’s a beautiful necklace. I think she’ll really like it… I hope.”

Ingrid squeaks when she’s suddenly stopped in her tracks as Sylvain pulls her into his chest.

“She’s going to love it, I keep telling you,” says Sylvain, sounding a little offended. He lightly grounds his knuckle into the crown of her head, successfully pulling a laugh from her.

“Unhand me!” exclaims Ingrid, breathless from laughing. She punches at Sylvain’s rib and he lets her go to nurse his side. Ingrid straightens back up, then clears her throat and offers an apologetic smile to the old couple that walks by them to get into the jewelry store.

“Ouch, Ingrid. Fucking hell." Sylvain is holding his side and wincing, but he’s laughing too. “Between you and Dimitri, I don’t know who manhandles me worse.”

“H-he does what?” asks Ingrid, as she starts to comb her hair back into place with her fingers.

“Roughhousing, you know.”

“Hm,” replies Ingrid. It took her until now, but she realizes that Sylvain has mentioned Dimitri in passing more than a few times today.

As they parked...

_”Dimi and I tried this new place in the food court. You’ll like it.”_

Passing a window display...

_“You think Dimitri would like that turtleneck?”_

Going up the escalator...

_“He would so make us take the stairs.”_

_“Huh? Who?”_

_“Dimitri.”_

Intermittently while they shopped around... and now this. She adjusts the shopping bags in her hands and looks back up at Sylvain with a smile.

“You know Sylvain,” she says, “If you wanted to bring Dimitri with us, I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Pardon?”

“You talked about him so much today, I just assumed you missed him or something,” Ingrid says, with a shrug. She starts walking again and laughs when she catches Sylvain’s reflection in a shop window. Is he _power walking_?

“Hold on, _what_ do you mean?” He asks once he catches up.

“Dimitri this, Dimitri that,” she says, an attempt to lower her voice to sound more like Sylvain ends with her coughing. “ _Ugh_ , you talk about him more than I ever talk about Doroth- _ow!_ ”

She glares at Sylvain and rubs her arm where he pinched it. Such a child.

“First of all, Inky, I know all your girlfriend’s prefered tea, clothing, _and_ make-up brands because you overshare,” says Sylvain. He holds up one finger then another. “Second of all, I literally only mentioned Dimitri once?”

Ingrid stares hard at her second tallest friend.

“In that case, I think Dimitri would look terrible in that sweater downstairs.”

“What? You blind now too? He would look great!”

Sylvain’s shoulders drop and Ingrid gives his back a friendly pat.

“Admitting it is the first step, Sylvain, it’s okay.”

Although, she is not quite sure what it is he is admitting. She will offer her support regardless.


End file.
